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Lib. 



The Snow 
Bride 



And Other Poems 



BY 



Daniel Hugh Verder, M. A. 



UiK^H^ of 00N«GR?:S5] 
Two Copier Roceivec! { 
AUG 3 '30/ 



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Copyright, 1907, by 
Daniel Hugh Verder 



The thanks of the Author are due to the fol- 
lowing magazines and publications In which orig- 
inally appeared some of the poems in this book: 
The Connecticut Magazine, Pearson^s Magazine, 
The Iroquois Magazine, Trinity Tablet and 
Trinity Ivy, 



i^UrS 1 l:l.iN 1 ib 


PAGE 


Prelude 


9 


The Snow Bride .... 


II 


Orithyia ..... 


17 


Class Day Prologue 


23 


Lyrics ..... 


. 29 


Quatrains ..... 


. 83 


Sonnets ..... 


97 


Triolets ...... 


123 


Religious Poems .... 


131 



TO MY MOTHER 



PRELUDE 

Lo, If I call you, my own songs, my flesh, 

And if I call you, my own songs, my blood, 
'TIs well, for ere I formed you I was fresh, 

But now I feel as though from me some good 
Has gone and made you not mere words In ink, 

But spirit-like partaking of my being. 
So all who read you, gentle songs, will drink 

My blood and eat my flesh without them seeing. 



THE SNOW BRIDE 



O DEATHLESS Love ! would that the task were 
mine 

To wreathe for thee a zone of myrtle pale, 
To burn rich incense 'fore thy votive shrine 

In hallowed grotto or sequester'd dale, 
Thrice brighter would thy tripods ever burn, 

Thrice whiter would thy misty clouds arise, 
And though I weary grew I could but learn 

That love is echoed in heart-rending sighs. 
For love would die if sorrow never came 
To kindly breathe upon its smouldering flame. 

Oh! I, who utter but a sad complaint, 

Like some lone nightingale at eventide; 
Whose doleful heart for very love doth faint, 

And seeks a leafy tree where it may hide; 
I, too, of yore have knelt before thee dumb; 

Upon my lips fair vows have burned to thee. 
My heart, grown sick with longings, now is numb ; 

Each hour becomes a long eternity. 
Oh, bathe me with thy restful love to-day; 
Or, crown me with thy rosy flower, I pray ! 



13 



Come, halo me with thy soft arms, so white ; 

Oh, prithee, shroud me with thy velvet form; 
But not too late, for silently one night, 

The Snow-Bride, leaning on the arm of Storm, 
And heralded by nymphs from elf-land, fleet, 

Came smiling down the stairs in silver sheen, — 
Drinking the nectar of her flowers sweet, 

Which she had garlanded with ferns of green. 
" Ring! ring, O bells! " cried nymphs in wild 

delight, 
" The Snow-Bride pure will wed the Earth to- 
night. 

" See! see her lover with his hoary hair. 

And visage ever constant as a dial. 
Yet wrinkled by his yearning and his care; 

For since he first beheld his Love's sweet 
smile, 
And heard her words that fall like Summer rain 

Upon the bosom of a listless lake, 
His fleecy-woven life by mothy pain 

Has fretted been. Awake ! O mirth, awake ! 
And shed a multitude of sunny beams 
Into his heart — the haunt of love-tuned dreams." 



14 



A fainting love-song in her veil has wrought, 

And it was fringed with violets of blue. 
Oh, to her softly-tinted brow it brought 

That loveliness which flowers gain from dew. 
Her mother, Moon, did kiss her with a tear. 

When, o'er her silken tresses gleaming bright. 
She gently draped the bridal-veil; while near 

Her lingered flower-girls in pink and white. 
As humming-birds a blushing rose revere. 
For it is sweeter far than tulip, hale. 
Or blue verbena, never growing pale. 

Sweet bridal-strains dissolved themselves in air, 

And all was hushed as in a room where Death, 
With silent tread, doth enter, — claiming there 

That no one speak save with a muffled breath. 
O bridal-strains ! — sweet, silver-flowing strains ! 

The Earth's ecstatic soul leaped up to hear 
Thy liquid songs, while through his dark-hued 
veins 

His blood grew cold, as though beside the bier 
Of some young friend he motionless did stand, 
And in deep grief did hold an icy hand. 



15 



The bridal-vell was lifted from her face. 

O sprite of love, how weak Is life's thin thread! 
Its pulsing fibres how we each embrace; 

But how death's shadow fills us with its dread! 
Her lips then crowned his for a moment brief. 

He swooned, and lifeless fell where, tier on tier. 
The heliotrope was weeping in its grief — 

The bridal-strains became a death-dirge drear! 
While o'er his form her bridal-veil — his pall — 
Shrouded the lover and his bride from all. 

O deathless Love! come halo me to-night; 
Come, speak one word in accents quick or 
slow. 
Oh, prithee, twine thine arms, so lithe and white, 
About my neck. Oh, say, dost not thou know 
How sobs the Snow-Bride o'er her lover, dead. 
Till, In her wild despair, she swoons to rest? 
O deathless Love ! crown with thy flower my 
head. 
And lull me to a calm upon thy breast 
Ere thou wilt hear these words from black-robed 
Fate: 
" Thy love was wanted, but it came too late." 



i6 



ORITHYIA 



A GREEK LEGEND 



High stood the caverns on Mount Haemus bold, 

Within them lurked a man forlorn and sad — 
King Boreas, the god of Northeast wind. 

Full heavily with garments was he clad, 
As on his throne high-pedestaled he sat 

And pondered in his heart a secret plan : 
" I am alone within this world," he sighed, 

''Right weighty is to me this grievous ban. 
No love has shared with me my kingly couch, 

No love has twined her arms about my form 
Save in a dream, but dreams! ah, me! alas! 

Are too unreal to comfort my life's storm. 
The bridal songs I hear in happy Thrace 

As upwards soar they in the evening air; 
I watch from this my home the bridal-dance. 

And would myself to bridal-couch repair, 
Yet I remain unmated and unloved, 

For all my aims at love are baffled soon. 
Betimes I fear lest 'tis the Fates' decree 

That I shall live forever out of tune; 
But yesterday when I was wandering 

About the broad-spread plains of Athens old. 
Where snowy temples bask beneath the sun, 

And King Erechtheus sways his sceptre gold, 
I spied the maiden Orithyia. 

I know no poet who could paint her eyes, 



19 



For they are bluer than the sapphire deep, 

And sunnier than all the Grecian skies. 
Her slender form is like the willow young 

Which overhangs a dark, unhampered pool. 
Her features are a study for my eyes, 

For they are chiseled with a perfect tool. 
Half-hidden by her veil-like vesture pale, 

As sometimes is the moon with feathery mist. 
Her bosom with its apple-blossom tint 

Lies in its silken sheen by beauty kissed. 
But when I sought my Orithyia 

To come and cheer this distant mountain cave. 
To serve my bed and bear me children strong, 

That might become good warriors and brave. 
With gentle mien spake she these crystal words — 

* Let but one stream spread over me its wave. 

And let that stream be pure Illissus clear 

In which I bathe with other maidens dear. 

Its golden sand gives to my naked feet 

A pleasure that is infinitely sweet. 

I love my Athens with its flowery dells. 

Its well-built walls and towering citadels. 

Nay, King, I will not leave my home for 
Thrace, 

Hie now away, thy airy flight retrace.' " 



20 



When to himself, for no one else was nigh, 

King Boreas these words had uttered low 
As fingered he his flowing, shaggy beard, 

His fierce rage In his heart did wilder grow, 
And upward raised he then his mighty form, 

And slowly paced he through his cavern's gloom 
As thunder sounds ere comes the break of storm. 

Then clinching furious his hairy hand, 
He cried, "Why hast Zeus given me this power 

Of mighty force so irresistible? 
Why did I hesitate to cull the flower — 

The lovely flower Orlthyia ? 
I ever gain my ends by mortal force, 

I will not hesitate to grasp my Love, 
And I will risk the pangs of deep remorse.'' 

He spake no more, but bound upon his feet 

His winged oak-wood sandals, light and fleet, 
Down, down from high Mt. Haemus did he wing. 

And men in Thrace did shudder with the cold. 
Down, down to Athens did he hastening come 

In silence as a knave or robber bold. 
Without a care, sweet Orlthyia 

Was straying calmly 'long the flowery field. 
Plucking the daisies which she loved so well, 

And now and then some favorite rose concealed 



21 



Within her vesture by her bosom warm. 

A low tune was she humming as she strayed, 
As hstless as the song of honey-bee 

That pauses often in the sunny glade 
Some clovers to caress. A moment past 

And Boreas had seized his gladsome prize, 
And girded firm his arm about her form. 

A startling cry ! A glance into his eyes, 
Then fell the maiden Orithyia 

Swooning upon his breast in deathly fear, 
Up mounted then the God of Northeast wind, 

And closer to himself his pale nymph dear 
He drew. Then kisses came in endless glee; 

His love awoke to drink of ecstacy. 



22 



CLASS-DAY PROLOGUE 



Dear friends, our halcyon days are hastening fast, 

The song of college life is nearly o'er; 
So pause we now a while and glances cast 

On fondest pleasures we can know no more. 
Still on our cheeks the blush of Hebe glows. 

And ere it fades we would our joys rehearse, 
But as fresh memory's stream Its banks o'erflows. 

We have not time to crown each joy in verse. 
Though in our hearts we'll treasure all aright. 
For they will ease our pains by day and night. 

How rare are friendships In this age of ours, 

Real friendships that will stand when tried by 
time; 
Yet here In college youths, like budding flowers, 

Become close friends and live In sunny clime. 
Away with theories how to love a friend, 

I would no theories In your hearts Instill. 
Passion and love may with each other blend, 

Or else a calmer love two souls may fill. 
For since no two men look nor act the same. 
Why think that love has but a single flame? 



25 



Who could or would forget his college hours? 

The long and happy confidential talks, 
The gatherings 'fore chapel near the towers, 

The rides through sunny country, and the walks 
In mellow Autumn, when trees are all aglow 

With gorgeous colors and tints of faintest hue. 
In Spring we watch our elm trees bud and grow, 

While 'bout the bishop, night-fires we start 
anew. 
Now petty college troubles fade from sight, 
But college joys remain forever bright. 

I would not have you think that college days 

Are free from weary care and drudging toll. 
The Idle fellow has no share In praise, 

He cannot reap who has not ploughed the soil. 
None knows the blessings that are hid In sleep 

Save he who's labored hard by day and night. 
He only finds repose a comfort deep, 

Whose heart commends him thus to sure de- 
light; 
** GOi rest awhile, thy task has been well done, 
Thy glory's as the brightness of the sun." 



26 



To-day our Alma Mater's voice profound 

Through clouds and mist unfathomable and 
deep, 
Speaks to our souls In accents full and round, 

*' Go, now, my faithful sons, and laurels reap; 
Do what ye love, for that ye will do best. 

Brighten the world and make It beautiful. 
To noble ends be all your toll addressed, 

Then never will your work seem hard or dull. 
Each man Is born with but a single goal. 
Let courage be the watchword of his soul." 

So listen now awhile, friends, one and all. 

And gather what you may of life at college, 
Our pride when sophomores, our junior ball. 

When freshmen young our longings after 
knowledge ; 
Our senior dignity, which all must see. 

Our hopes and honest love for this our home — 
Our common home, our dear old Trinity — 

Which stands so worthily 'neath heaven's dome, 
A cherlsher of all that's good and true. 
And where the beautiful Is honored, too. 



27 



LYRICS 



POESIE 

O Poesle, O Poesle, 

Could I but ever dwell with thee, 

No greater blessing would I know, 

No richer one could God bestow. 

Oh, what care we for sleet or storm. 

Though chill wind blow we still are warm. 

And pillowed on my wing-like arm 

I'll keep thee from Intrusive harm. 

This, this alone shall be my goal — 
To sip the sunshine of thy soul. 
And If another would thee wrong 
I'll be the gallant knight of song, 
And should I win upon the sward. 
Let but thy smile be my reward. 
Gladly with thee my life I'll spend, 
O Poesle, my constant friend. 



31 



Soul-filled eyes and rose-wreathed hair, 
Full-curved lips that know no care, 
And a neck so round and white. 
Circled 'bout with large pearls bright. 
Thou dost not open thy gate 
To the man who has most gold, 
But to him whose heart elate 
Worships Beauty manifold. 
Richest perfumes I have fed on. 
Softest grass I've made my bed on; 
I have drunk Love's strongest potion 
And have sailed on Freedom's ocean. 
I have been both king and vassal 
In some mediaeval castle. 
In exchange for highest health, 
I have gained a poet's wealth. 
Yet the throbs my soul has felt. 
And how often have I spelt 
Disappointment, Disappointment ! 
Yet thou hast bestowed cool ointment, 
And I live in fancy's clime, 
Feeding on heart-easing rhyme, 
Finding there fresh joys that fade not. 
Hearing songs that yet are played not. 



3^ 



O Poesle, O Poesle, 

Could I but ever dwell with thee, 

No greater blessing would I know, 

No richer one could God bestow. 

Oh, what care we for sleet or storm, 

Though clilll wind blow we still are warm, 

And pillowed on my wing-like arm 

I'll keep thee from Intrusive harm. 

This, this alone shall be my goal — 

To sip the sunshine of thy soul. 



33 



A CERTAIN CHARM 

A ROSEBUD has a certain charm 

That does not grace the full-blown rose, 

It only promises delight, 

Its treasure it does not disclose. , 

And so a youth with throbbing health 
Attracts us with his ruddy glow ; 

Though later he gain fame and wealth 
The man can never please us so. 



A SIMILE 

Have you not seen in airy blue, high-vaulted, 

A butterfly with wings pinked 'round with gold, 
And spotted with a dusty blue, assaulted 

By some smooth-sailing swallow growing bold? 

Thus In the flute-song, sorrow seems to fold 
Frail love within Its hov'ring pinions sure. 

Until love Is overpowered and controlled. 
Then sorrow swiftly wings through ether pure. 



34 



THE HONEY-ROVER 

BLUSHING, blood-red clover, 
Beneath the sunny sky, 

No lad nor poet-rover 
Can love thee well as I. 

1 come o'er meadows winging, 
On gauzy pinions spread, 

I come a love-song singing 
To thee, my clover red. 

Thy golden-honeyed treasure 

I often seek to drain : 
But love Is free from measure. 

To fathom love Is vain. 

Each day, O red, red flower. 

New pleasures thou dost give; 
Each day haunting thy bower, 
I drink of love and live. 



35 



THE MOUNTAINS 

I WANT to live where mountains are, 

Purple or green or white ; 
Content to dwell from the wild sea far 
If only I am where the mountains are, 

To know and feel their might 

I envy not broad, fertile slopes. 

Though blossom-crowned and fair; 

The mountains gave me all my hopes, 

So envy I not sultry slopes, 
But love the mountain air. 

Lo, I was born where clear springs leap 

From out the mountain's side. 
There let me sing and love and sleep. 
As others have done where the same springs leap ; 

As others have done and died. 



36 



APHRODITE 

She who came from nether deep, 
Bom amid the pearly crest, 
Steeps for thee a drink of sleep, 
Yea, a drink of weird-like rest — 
Breeding now soft-amber trances, 
Now the golden-purple fancies 
Like the clouds that haunt the west. 
Thou dost love the lithe arms white 
Garlanding a silver lyre. 
Magic eyes that breed desire, 
Tuneful songs of swift delight. 
Tinted shoulder's graceful curve 
And the form's fair mien and swerve 
When with every pulsing breeze 
Maiden's tresses fall and rise. 
Wanton as the willow trees, 

Sunny as the cloudless skies. 
Then it is thy soul has pleasure 



37 



In their smiling, swooning measure, 
As the wave that towers high 
Finds delight In bending low, 
Then again to rise and vie 
While the tide doth come and go; 
As the long-winged swallows fly. 
Kissing earth, then kissing sky, 
Telling men that showers are nigh. 
All that charms thee with Its grace- 
Speechless painting, sculptured face — 
Leaves upon thy soul its trace. 
She who came from nether deep, 
Born amid the pearly crest. 
Steeps for thee a drink of sleep. 
Yea, a drink of weird-like rest — 
Breeding now soft-amber trances. 
Now the golden-purple fancies 
Like the clouds that haunt the west. 



38 



MY SOUL IS LIKE A FLOWERING 
PLANT 

My soul Is like a flowering plant, 

Azalea Is Its name, I ween; 
For months and months It seems as dead 

And loses all Its splendid green. 

But when It blooms at Easter-tlde 
Its gorgeous blooms are In excess. 

So when my soul awakes to sing 
Its lyric notes are numberless. 



DE PROFUNDIS 

Music and ease and roses sweet, 

Her presence, her voice, my smiles to greet. 

Then I am happy, my joy^s complete. 

Clouds and rain and wintry sleet, 
Weary and tired with bruised feet. 
Friendless and lone, my sorrow's complete. 



39 



LOVE EVERYWHERE 

Cupid rises from his sleep, 
Fills his quiver with his arrows, 
Comes a-smiling down the steep 
Driving all his flitting sparrows. 
Lo ! his mother sends him dight 
With the flowers red and white- 
Roses red to crown the lover, 
Soft anemone the other. 
Far and wide his arrows fall, 
In the cot and in the hall. 
In the school and at the ball; 
Love is present everywhere. 
First a smile and then a glance, 
And a meeting at the stair, 
And afterwards a dizzy dance, 
Love is present everywhere 
In a glass of ruddy wine, 
In a smile or valentine. 



40 



THINE EYES ARE BLUE 

Thine eyes are blue as an azure sea 
When balmy is the sunny air. 

Much more of Heaven they bear to me 
Than melodies and perfumes rare. 

Thine eyes are blue as an azure sea, 
And in their brightness, Oh, so sweet, 

I see thy soul so fair, so free, 
And lo ! I falter at thy feet. 

Thine eyes are blue as an azure sea, 
And with their penetrating light 

Thou seest and thou knowest me. 
Were I but worthier In thy sight! 



41 



UNDER THE APPLE-TREE LYING 

Under the apple-tree lying, 

'Mid blossoms part white and part red, 
Death, ill content, with love vying, 

Death with pink Love being fed, 
Sapped is my heart-soul and dying; 

So cover with blossoms my head. 
Under the apple-tree lying, 

'Mid blossoms part white and part red. 

So cover with blossoms my head. 

Weaving a song of desire, 
A-glitter with shimmering thread. 

Half-flushed with its faint flaming fire 
Until my sick heart-soul has fled, 

Death sounding boldly his lyre. 
So cover with blossoms my head, 

Weaving a song of desire. 



42 



I CANNOT YOUR BURNING WOUNDS 
HEAL 

Though you open your heart to my eyes, 

Though your words your strong passion reveal, 
Though you tell me your longings and sighs, 

Yet I cannot your burning wounds heal. 
Do not think that your love I despise, 

But 'tis true that I wish 'twere unreal, 
Since I cannot your soul idolize. 

Since I cannot your burning wounds heal. 

Oh, does not another youth wait 

With a manlier heart than is mine? 
Why not love him, fair one, ere too late? 

Look with favor on his heart, benign. 
You would weary of me and my dreams. 

And would droop In my charmed solitude: 
You would weary of mountains and streams, 

For but these are my drink and my food. 



43 



THE ETERNAL CALM 

The long shadows of purple light 

Played o'er the chapel floor, 
All else was still and dark as night, 

I paused beneath its door. 

I looked without where fields were spread 
With daisies white and yellow, 

The pale blue sky arched overhead 
Raining its life-light mellow. 

Then I forgot the marble fane 

Where many souls find balm ; 
I strolled through fields and leafy lane 

And felt th* eternal calm. 



44 



NEPTUNE 

Throw thy doak of purple bright, 

Fringed with silks of snowy white; 

Bid the mermaids dance till weary, 

Till the day is cool and dreary, 

Till the quivering, saddened ray. 

Peering into caverns gray. 

Makes each pebble seem a treasure 

And the seeing it a pleasure. 

Gurgling round the wave-washed caves 

Heap the sea-weed o'er the graves 

Of the shipwrecked sailors. Roam, 

Roam, and bathe thyself in foam; 

Dip thy shoulders in the main, 

Lift thy wand and rise again. 

'Tis thy might that I admire. 

Thy bold ruthlessness so dire, 

And thy frenzy without gage; 

Cast thyself in wildest rage, 

Chime the nervous bells at sea 



45 



To your mutt'ring minstrelsy; 

Gather pearls of snowy whiteness, 

Of unsullied smoothy brightness, 

For thy father Saturn, old, 

In his palace wrought of gold, 

All inlaid with precious gems, 

Fit for costly diadems. 

Throw thy cloak of purple bright, 

Fringed with silks of snowy white. 

Till night comes with lullings teeming. 

Beckoning thee to silent dreaming. 



46 



THE MOTH'S REMORSE 

My downy wings, despoiled of feathered dew, 
All day have flapped In vain against the air. 

Although once tinted with an azure hue, 

No longer can they flit In noon-day glare; 
My passing fancy brought me but despair. 

To heights aerial In cloudless sky, 

To sylvan dells which shade the violet. 

How often In my dreams I gently hie. 

For one short hour my woes I would forget 
And listless flit about some rivulet. 

But ere I wake I hear the zephyrs moan, 
I hear the dryad tune her woodland fife 

To plaintive lays. I wake only to groan 
With w^eary thoughts of a returning strife 
The end of which I shall not find in life. 



47 



CLASS SONG ^99 

Ere life's shadows gather 'round, 

Ere we feel deep sorrow's gloom, 
Let us revel here together 

While our youth still knows Its bloom. 
Many a joy without dull worry, 

Many a rose without a thorn. 
We have plucked here free from hurry. 

Through the sunny hours of morn. 

CHORUS 

'Ninety-nine, we'll sing to thee, 
'Ninety-nine for now and aye, 

'Ninety-nine and Trinity 

Be our watch-word through life's day. 



48 



Some may bring our College dear 

Stoned treasures of rich gold, 
While the burden of another 

May be fame or learning old; 
Though our goals may differ ever, 

Let our hearts remain the same; 
Not with shame, but glory, rather, 

We shall crown our College's name. 

So we'll drink to 'Ninety-nine, 

While our banner floats so bright — 
Here's to her health, here's to thine. 

Loudly cheer the red and white. 
Though the echo of our singing 

Dies upon the Summer air, 
Love about our hearts is clinging. 

Clinging fresh as ivy there. 



49 



WHEN THOU ART HEEDLESS 

When from me thy fond love's restrained, 
When thou art heedless of my needs, 
I languid grow, my heart is pained, 
Not only pained but aches and bleeds. 

But when once more thou art benign, 
When comes thy pleasant smile again, 
Then happy is this heart of mine 
As is a flower after fresh rain. 



LOVE'S UNREST 

As THE sea-gull, arching down. 
Lingers on the troubled wave. 

When the billows wildly frown 
Yearning heaven's clouds to lave. 

So, my love, I haunt thy breast, 
Which is heaving with emotions ; 

And I know thy sweet unrest. 
As the sea-gull knows the Ocean's. 



50 



LOVE IS NOT ALL 

If love were all, if love were all, 

I would not hear the warrior's call. 

But linger in my stately hall 

To hear the strains of music fall. 

That I might feast my heart, ah yes, 

On lovely melody's excess, 

Which rouses with its powerful might 

My heart athirst for wild delight, 

But love's not all when honor stands 

Pleading his cause with outstretched hands. 

That love were all, could I but think 
I would not linger at the brink 
Of love's bright ocean deep and wide 
But dive beneath its surging tide. 
And lose myself beneath its foam 
Within its depths to live and roam; 
But love's not all when virtue sweet 
Looks up a kindred face to greet. 
For love falls helpless at her feet. 



51 



Nor is love all when sacrifice 
Begs for a life with saddened eyes. 
The young monk immaturely old 
Within his cloistered cell so cold, 
With trembling hands fingers his beads 
Praying for others and their needs. 
By discipline his soul is taught, 
And wanton love is not his thought. 
The world and all its hopes, forsooth, 
He sacrificed when but a youth. 
That other men through him might be 
Made better for eternity. 
The mural Christ with age grown dim 
Beholds the monk and blesses him. 



52 



A REFRAIN 

Oh, listen to my song, my love, 

Oh, listen to my lay, 
And If It seems too long, my love, 

Just tell me so, I pray; 
Oh, listen to my song, my love, 

Oh, listen to my lay. 

Were I a babbling brook, my love. 
And thou a silver stream, 

We'd glide together on, my love, 
And life would be a dream. 

Were I a babbling brook, my love. 
And thou a silver stream. 

If I were Heaven's dew, my love, 
And thou a blushing flower, 

Would not I kiss thy lips, my love. 
And haunt thy leafy bower. 

If I were Heaven's dew, my love. 
And thou a blushing flower. 



53 



If I were a brave fisher-lad, 

And thou wert Laurelei, 
Then would I linger here so sad 

Or in thy soft arms lie, 
If I were a brave fisher-lad. 

And thou wert Laurelei? 

If I were young Adonis,' love, 
And thou fair Venus sweet, 

Oh, whither would we wander, love, 
With winged sandals fleet. 

If I were young Adonis, love. 
And thou fair Venus sweet? 

And so IVe sung my song, my love. 
And so I've sung my lay, 

Oh, did it seem too long, my love, 
I did not hear thee say; 

And so I've sung my song, my love. 
And so I've sung my lay. 



54 



A RAIN-CLOUD 

A RAIN-CLOUD hangs above my head, 

Yet whither can I fly? 
The storm Is ever gathering, 

And threatening in the sky. 

A tear-cloud hangs above my heart; 

Ah, could I but know why 1 
Where'er I roam It lingers there, 

And sad Indeed am I. 



SURF TO ARID SAND 

Surf to arid sand; 
Dew to pansy blown; 
Rain to thirsty land; 
Fruit to seed long sown ; 
Sleep to darksome night; 
Thou to me, O Sprite. 

Water to the fountain ; 
Music to emotion; 
Valley to the mountain; 
Streamlet to the ocean; 
Time to eternity; 
I, O Love, to thee. 



VIOLETS DYING 

With dew-drops fed, 

All velveted, 
The pastures green are lying. 

The west wind sings, 

Of Summer springs. 
The violets are dying; 

The maiden weeps 

E'en as she sleeps 
Dreaming of Spring-time hours 

When on her breast. 

Her lover's rest, 
She placed the purple flowers. 

The pale moon's rim 

That's waning dim 
In heavy grief Is sighing, 

" I love ye still 

And ever will 
O violets now dying"; 

And so, forsooth. 

We weep for youth. 
For hearts of men grow colder, 

When dally life 

Is linked with strife. 
And they themselves grow older. 
England, 



56 



WILL-O'-THE-WISP 

If I were worthy of thee, 
I could not better love thee, 
For hold I naught above thee, 
Will-o'-the-WIsp, sweet fay. 
Although thou wilt not marry, 

love, my evening fairy. 
Yet let me still here tarry 
Till comes the dawn of day. 

What rhythm has thy dancing, 
My wandering eyes entrancing? 
With deep, beguiling glancing 

1 seek thy lips to kiss. 

But lo ! thou hast departed. 
Into the darkness darted. 
And left me broken-hearted 
Without a moment's bliss. 



57 



TO THE MONTH OF MAY 

O MONTH of sweet dellclousness serene, 

The budding of a year of peaceful hope, 
Of gentlest bearing and of graceful mien ! 

Ah, could I but with thee, my love, elope, 
And journey over northern countries cool, 

Bedecking mountains w^ith the deepest green, 
Hemming with daffodils the dreaming pool 

Which calmly gems the nestling, leafy scene. 

The odor of the grass, but lately mown — 

Which, like sweet innocence, is sweet though 
dead, 
Bemlxed with perfume of the tulips blown, 

Of yellow petals partly streaked with red ! 
Oh, but to breathe that fragrance for an hour, 

Lying beside some brooklet icy cold, 
In some deserted and forgotten bower 

Where tangled foliage is manifold I 



58 



Where happy moss-elves dance to tripping meas- 
ure, 
Where silver moonbeams rain through arching 
boughs 
That, bending, kiss the earth when wrapt in pleas- 
ure. 
For since none laughs, the smiling earth allows; 
'Tis yonder that the white-elves lately played. 

Holding each other by the hand in glee, 
For there the grass with greener gown arrayed 
Bears token of their sportive minstrelsy. 

How fittingly thou wearest thy pure name I 

How infinitely sweet thy flowery garland! 
Within thy heart there burns a crystal flame 

Which oft is hymned In far-off fairy star-land. 
'Twere good to have one's birthday in thy arms. 

But better to love with thou present to smile. 
But best to die that death may gain rare charms 

And crown the casket with a blossom-pile. 



59 



THE GOOD IT DOES ME NOBODY 
KNOWS 

A BIT of green In my study grows, 
The good It does me nobody knows; 

I care for It while the wild wind blows, 
The good It does me nobody knows. 

I know a face as sweet as a rose, 

The good It does me nobody knows; 

With Innocent laughter it overflows, 
The good It does me nobody knows. 

To sing a song when my own heart glows, 
The good It does me nobody knows. 

Seducing like a Siren my woes, 

The good It does me nobody knows: 



60 



NO HEATHER BLOOMS ON BEN VENUE 

No HEATHER of pink nor purple hue 
Buds and blossoms on Ben Venue; 
And furthermore no one knows why 
Its graceful slopes deserted lie. 

Why sittest, Sweet, beneath the yew? 
Thy friends are many, thy lovers not few. 
W^hy happiness and love defy? 
Thou mayest know ; not I, not I. 



NIGHT 

How calmly o'er the earth comes Spirit Night 

With trailing garments of foreboding dark, 
All Interwoven with myster'ous might! 

As foaming billows gain the high-tide mark 
By slow and imperceptible degrees 

Until to further strive Is all in vain, 
Thus deepens night with every dying breeze, 

Giving release from toilsome strife and pain. 



6i 



SPRING 

I DANCE and sing, 

All-welcoming, 
With many a bright gay flower; 

My name is Spring, 

And I do fling 
Many a freshening shower 

To gladden man's heart 

And make buds start 
Where children love to play 

With voices keen 

On meadows green 
All in the month of May* 

The old man walks 

And spritely talks 
Of robins and the wildwood, 

And he will stop 

To spin a top 
Just as he did in childhood. 



62 



The maiden smiles 

As youth beguiles 
And soon love-words are spoken. 

The lover knocks, 

Her heart unlocks — 
May that love not be broken! 

The student tired, 

By many admired, 
Straight to his casement hurries: 

'' TIs Spring. I'll roam 

Far from my home, 
And leave my books and worries." 

I dance and sing. 

All-welcoming, 
With many a bright, gay flower; 

My name Is Spring, 

Oh, let me fling 
Myself into thy bower. 



63 



UNION 

Give me of thy full life, 
And I will give of mine, 

Pure as the snow on the mountains 
And white as the foaming brine. 

O wondrous power in union — 

A mystery profound — 
For thou and I are strongest 

When to each other bound. 



THE SPIRIT OF THE DIAMOND 

The Spirit of the Diamond, when it tries 
To free itself from its fair crystal hold, 

Like human love within a human heart, 
Is then most lovely when it is most bold: 

Like human love within a human heart 
That never loses fire nor grows cold. 

But gleams and glitters of its very self — 
Such is the Diamond Spirit in its hold. 



64 



A SCARLET CLOUD 

A SCARLET cloud, 

A young soul's shroud, 
Comes drifting through the blue; 

Immaculate, 

Yet passionate, 
So beautiful, so true; 

A flowing flood. 

Of burning blood 
That speaks of love yet living; 

Frail as a rose 

That sweetly grows, 
Its pure soul freely giving; 

It weeps aloud. 

This scarlet cloud. 
Its tears become smooth pearls, 

And on the earth 

In joy and mirth 
Are gathered by fair girls. 

It sings and soars 

And yearning pours 
Its essence everywhere. 

The north wind comes 

With its fife and drums 
And the cloud pales In the air. 

Rutland, Vermont. 

6s 



LYRIC— LIFE 

Yes, cut me short of a few years of life, 
But while I live let life be full and sweet; 
As full and sweet as these blooms at my feet. 

No muffled drums for me, or funeral fife! 

No jealousy or malice, woe or strife. 

But joy and gladness, happiness and mirth — 
The spirits fine that quicken us of earth: 

Let me but marry these and call them wife ! 

Cut short my life, but give me friends of worth, 
And while I live let them about me throng. 
No dirge for me, but one clear, flowing song! 

This Is eternal life, here, on this earth! 



(>e 



LINES 

Though some envy thy pureness, 
Though many wish thee ill, 

They cannot hurt thy sureness, 
So be thou happy still. 

And though thou growest weary 

In each task dutiful, 
Though all the world seem dreary, 

Yet be thou beautiful. 



ONE FLESH 

Where is a flower that lives without fresh dew, 
Where is a stream that does not sometimes flood, 
Where is a plant that grows without the sun ? 
As long as souls inhabit flesh and blood 
So long shall mighty Heaven decree that two 
Responsive hearts shall be by union one. 



67 



THE ACOLYTE 

At vesper-time within a cathedral grand 
I kindly watched a sweet-faced acolyte, 

Who, with a candle in his outstretched hand. 
Lighted the tapers on the altar white. 

A week from then that pure young lad had died, 
And as I looked out o'er the darksome night 

His childlike form and visage, deified, 
Appeared in Heaven as God's acolyte. 

And when at last each star-flame gently beamed. 
He passed away from sight as first he came; 

And then I fell asleep, and dreamed and dreamed. 
And wished that I were only as free from blame. 



6S 



TO KILLINGTON PEAK 

Thou rustic haunt of soothing quietness, 

HIgh-towerIng, king of the mountains near, 
Bedecked with slanting boughs and leafy tress. 

Oh, never are thy twigs and flowers sear, 
For misty clouds stoop down with robes of white 

To bathe thy trees, with luxury o'erwelghed. 
And as the priest with holy vestments dight 

Pronouncing absolution on the strayed 
Give calm, celestial, and a ray of joy 

Which all the powers of earth cannot destroy. 

Away, away from heated, sun-burnt plain 

To elf-like stillness of thy Ice-cool dell : 
Away, away and quiet whirling brain 

And shut the fingered books In study-cell, 
To live as free as linnet or the wren 

Amid the trees and spreading bushes thick, 
To leave and quite forget the ways of men 

And no more worry till the heart Is sick. 
Oh, happy, happy life — one lyric strain — 

But which, alas! too few can ever gain I 



69 



There breezes blow for which the cities pine ; 
There are cold springs which might sate parched 
lips, 
O emerald and dew-bestudded shrine, 

A thousand are thy sloping shell-like dips, 
With here and there a vernal vista deep 

Through which there runs a rushing crystal 
brook 
Where some Endymion would melt In sleep 

Or some Narcissus, by his imaged look 
Enamored, would change into a flower 

And pour his fragrant soul throughout the 
bower. 

Oh, whereas the end of spinning lyric rhyme, 

Recounting all thy charms with feeble praise! 
Delicious is an hour in Fancy's clime 

Where shimmer countless labyrinthian ways, 
For there my heart forgets its gnawing pain, 

Forgets and upward mounts to Heaven's sphere 
And pauses there to hear the starry strain. 

As lingers In the air a brown leaf sear 
Ere It falls helpless, void of any mirth; 

Thus sinks my heart back to the woeful earth. 



70 



THE LABORS OF OTHERS 

As ROUND the festive board we sit to drink 
And eat of all that Is by man styled good, 

We do not often stop, I fear, to think 

Of those who sowed and harvested the food. 

Religious Tolerance, democracy, 

And education spreading far and wide — 

These, too, are fruits which now we have at will; 
For these men suffered much and were denied. 



THE PARASITE 

Thou sayest that I draw my life from thee, 
That I am but the brightness of thy light; 

It may be true; I will not disagree. 
Is not the mistletoe a parasite? 

And yet the mistletoe Is loved by all, 
The Druids used to cut It with a knife 

Of gold. And now In Christmas festive hall 
The lover seeks beneath It a fair wife. 



71 



TO A RAINBOW 

Rainbow beauty of the mist, 
By the evening breeze unklssed, 
Could I bind my sandals on, 
Gauzy pinions could I don, 
Cloudward would I quickly soar, 
High above the dells, and o'er 
Mossy lairs still wet with dew 
Of bright adamantine hue. 
Till I reached the mystic clime. 
Hallowed by the years of time, 
In the cloudy haunts that rise 
Like deep snow-drifts in the skies. 
Does the perfume of the flowers 
Wreathe about thy misty bowers. 
As the incense finds it way 
Through the vaulted high archway ? 



72 



Psyche, Psyche of the cloud, 
Night Is coming with her shroud, 
Thou wilt soon be lost In mist, 
Rainbow Psyche, still unklssed. 
Like a pale and waning flower 
Hidden In the forest bower. 
Like a maiden who would die 
If she could but hear the sigh 
Of her lover lost at sea. 
Borne by billows tenderly; 
Fainter dost thou ever grow 
In the cloudy hills of snow. 
Tinted by the breath of Heaven, 
Which has thee thy beauty given, 
Surely thou canst never die. 
Rainbow Psyche of the sky, 
And thou wilt remain to me 
Goddess of Eternity. 



73 



PAUL 

Poor Paul, you have left me to go and play 
In the Garden of Life just over the way; 

So all day long you can play at ball 
With the other boys In the Garden there; 

And while I work In my study, Paul, 
I'll think of thee In the open air. 

Ah, this Is just what It means to me 

As Into the Garden your swift steps flee I 

But you will come as I sit and think, 
And stand by my chair as I sit to write, 

So I can see your young face pink, 
Your hair so brown and your brow so white. 



74 



Meanwhile I'll struggle on hour by hour 
And spend my strength and spend my power, 

But this win all end, my Paul, some day, 
And down on the floor my pen shall drop; 

The people will mutter that pass my way, 
*' Alas, another man's heart did stop! " 

Then^into the Garden I'll haste to go, 
Where I will find thee all aglow. 

And you can tell me what you've seen 
Of birds and flowers, my Pink and White, 

Where the Garden of Life Is all serene. 
And nothing can harm by day or by night. 



/ 



75 



THE GRAPE AND THE WINE 

Let me hear with your ears, 

You can hear with mine; 
Let me sing with your lips 

One sweet song divine. 

Let me look with your eyes 

Right straight Into mine, 
Is there aught to choose, dear, 

Twixt the grape and wine? 



THE WREATH OF SLEEP 

Cull popples red and popples white, 
A fainting garland for me twine, 
Thou sister-spirit of pale Death, 
And bid me call the garland mine. 
Cull poppies red and popples white — 
The flowers weird of Lethe's token — 
Oh, let me feel their magic breath. 
And swoon until the spell Is broken. 



76 



THE TREASURES OF LIFE 

Unraveling truth from one great snarl of lies, 
And getting gold from out the dirt-mixed rock, 

From out our lusts and passions seeking love, 
Carving an angel from a marble block 1 

Oh, Life, thou hast thy treasures hid in dross! 

Happy the man who can a fair pearl find. 
But happier he who can the pearl close hold 

Until it has transformed his heart and mind. 



LIFE STRENGTH 

Within the elm the sap is surging, 
So restless, for it would be free: 

New shoots from old twigs are emerging. 
Fresh-varnished leaves crown last year's tree. 

Within my heart fresh strength Is yearning: 
With throbbings comes Its rush and flow. 

My flaming blood Is brighter burning, 
My new life from my old doth grow. 



77 



REPOSE 

O SWEET repose, thou poesle of living, 

With healing balm thou canst not come too oft; 
Such blessed quietness and full ease giving 

To weary hearts, till into slumber soft 
They pass and dream of some hedge-girted land 

Where luxury Is at its best and shows 
Dense orchards bending low with ripe fruit, and 

Many a thomless, finely scented rose; 
Here like the lotus-eaters, dwell at ease 

Thy dreamers. Sprite, with nothing to displease. 



78 



THE COST 

Oh, how can I do wrong 

When I have kissed thy face- 
A mirror of God's grace, 

A sweet and hallowed song. 

When I am tempted most 
To taste the joy of sin, 
Do thou then but begin 

And tell me what 'twould cost. 



WHEN LOVE WAS SOLD 

The air was wild with frosty snow, 
The roads were covered high and low ; 
And home I started In the wind 
And hardly could my pathway find. 

When tired I stumbled at the door. 
The home was gone I knew of yore ; 
The frost had entered and the cold. 
The sacred fire of love was sold. 



79 



DARK AND DAMP 

Dark and damp along the sea, 

Fog and dew and mist; 
Life plods 'long so drearily, 

Challenging with fist. 

Where has all the sunshine gone. 

That no more it meets us ? 
Since young Hope has ceased to smile, 

Melancholy greets us. 



BY PASSION SWEPT 

I CANNOT preach a bread-and-water creed 
Dry as the dust; with passion set forth there 
As something void of goodness, and as bare 

Of fruit as is some health-destroying weed. 

A man whose heart is ne'er by passion swept. 
And knows not what absorbing friendship is. 

Who has not cherished hopes, and smiled and 
wept, 
I envy not what happiness is his. 



80 



TWO REVELATIONS 

An artist tried for many a year 

To paint an angel's face ; 
But not until In vision clear 
He saw an angel standing near, 

Could he Its beauty trace. 

A fair youth sang of love's delight 

When the flush of youth was his ; 
But not until he met one night 
A face aglow, a warm heart bright, 
Did he sing of love as It Is. 



TIME 

" The days are not half long enough, 
The weeks fly all too soon," 

Sings loud the youth, 

Who longs for truth. 
Ere comes his own life's noon. 

" The light Is dim, the ways are rough, 
O night, come with calm sleep," 
The old man moans. 
And his spirit groans. 
For the roads of life are steep. 



8i 



QUATRAINS 



RELIEF 

In pain and bowel-gnawing care and grief 
He stared and looked about him for relief; 
But when he upward rose and sought a friend, 
His grief, and care, and pain were at an end. 



GOD'S LAW AND MAN'S LAWi 

Come close and let me press my face to thine; 

We're one in heart, why should our flesh be 
parted? 
Though God's and man's law may not now agree, 

Yet all will end in God, whence all hath started. 



8s 



SPRING MISTS 

I SEE the level lawn as far as eye can reach, 
And just above It hangs a mist as on the sea; 

These are the days of yearnings, Friends, vague, 
Indistinct, 
Yet reaching from our depths to all eternity. 



WITHOUT A CARE 

From flesh-consuming air and burning heat 
On mountain glade there Is a cool retreat, 
Likewise with thee, my friend, I am at ease, 
For we, without a care, each other please. 



86 



MAN'S ADVOCATE 

The crying wind, the blast of cutting snow, 
A broken heart, a body bruised and scarred; 

O God, all nature speaks In man's behalf! 
Eternal Love, let not thy name be marred! 

New York City. 



ONE LANGUAGE 

There Is one tongue — one language — all can 
learn. 

Both Jew and Gentile, Greek and Arab bold. 
Heart speaks to heart, for love can all discern, 

A language new each day, yet old, so old. 

Bern, Switzerland. 



87 



MY FRESCOES 

My bedroom walls are bare and cold and white, 
So I have frescoed them with fancy free: 

Here are two wrestlers, there an iron-clad knight, 
Then comes a wreath of maidens in sportive 
glee. 



INSIDIOUS 

Something insidious in those good smokes 
There was, my friend, beneath those leafy oaks. 
Something that made our hearts more free to speak 
Just what we felt; and we were kind and meek. 



88 



WHAT ARE THESE WOUNDS? 

Oh, bear me to the altar of my God, 

With blood spilled and with wounds in side and 

wrist, 
But let those wounds be made by raging foes, 
Not by false friends who have my own lips kissed. 



THE CLEAR PERSPECTIVE 

When mad infatuation has consumed its strength, 
And passion lies down prostrate on the earth full 

length, 
Then do I have a vision clear and accurate 
Of health and life and death, eternity and fate. 



89 



ALONE 

When all my friends have parted and have gone, 
I listless He and cannot sing a song, 
But when my blood with strong affection leaps 
Up from my heart rush lyrics In a throng. 



A SHOWER OF MUSIC 

A SHOWER of music from the organ pealed. 
The vaulted roof with melody was celled, 
And from the song-flood came a happy voice, 
" Commit thy soul to God. Rejoice I Rejoice I " 



90 



FAME 

The child with rosy fingers prints its name 
Upon the silver sheen of shining snow. 

There Is In every man desire for fame, 
But some conceal it as they older grow. 



THE WORTHY 

He who deserves love most Is oft loved least 
The poor and hungry never sit at feast, 
But some one surfeited, with senses dull, 
Lets spill his venom o'er the beautiful. 



91 



THE ROSE AND THE STEM 

The rose of joy blooms on the stem of woe, 
Thus sages teach, with faces all serene; 

Alas, I wish with me 'twere only so, 

The stem I own, the rose I have not seen. 



SACRIFICING LOVE 

I LOVE you for your weakness, O my friend, 
I love you for the greatness of your soul; 

I love you for your griefs and will defend 
You though by doing so I lose my goal. 



92 



A SHORT STORY 

In olden times poets were much extolled, 

And for their brows were wreathed fair crowns 
of glory. 

Only a few now care for poets' dreams, 

But many cry, " Give me a good short story." 



WHAT I DESIRE 

Tll give to thee what honors thou may'st crave, 
The singer's skill, the painter's happy art, 

But give thou me the woods, the fields, the cave, 
And one dear friend with passion in his heart. 



93 



SUBSTANCE AND FORM 

Since substance cannot be withdrawn from form, 
Since color is not seen without some hght, 

Do you now wonder that my heart is warm, 
When thou art near to make the word seem 
bright? 



A THOUGHT FROM ST. AUGUSTINE 

If you could live forever on this earth. 

And loll in sunshine, singing some sweet song. 

Oh, tell me, would you seek a higher birth 
And for some misty heaven really long? 



94 



LOVE'S COMPLETENESS 

As RAVISHES the bee the clover sweet, 
As hungers the wild Hon after meat, 
So eager am I now to find in thee 
Lovers own completeness and sincerity. 



THE LYRIC POET 

As OFTEN Stands the singer quite apart 
From the musicians on the village street, 

So Bums his lyrics sang with mellow heart 

While Wordsworth and his friends played soft 
chords sweet. 



95 



WITHOUT FEAR 

Though fruitless doubts and fears each day In- 
crease, 
Be not, my heart, too troubled or dismayed. 
Be only good and seek a life of peace, 

Then happen what may, thou canst not be 
afraid. 



THE JEWEL AND THE CASKET 

I LOVE thy form not for its sake alone. 

But for thy soul which gives It holy light; 
As I would prize a casket where a stone, 
A precious, brilliant jewel. Is kept bright. 



96 



SONNETS 



ROSE-LOVE 

Here let me rest and let me dream and dream 
Of sweet Utopia, nor let me know 
That In the world about me there Is woe. 

What but our sighs shall be our true song-theme ! 

Let thy lips parted with fond kisses teem, 

And to thy dear form, prithee, hold me firm 
(Beneath our rose-love there shall gnaw no 
worm) ; 

We do not need to speak, but only dream. 

And as I gain thee high and higher still 

Until the place Is reached where fullest ease 
Shall crown our young hearts with life's happy 

thrill, 
About thyself I closer draw my knees. 

That I may feel thy flesh as 'twere my own; 

A lichen clinging to a mountain stone. 

LOfC 



99 



ALL THAT'S VOLUPTUOUS 

All that's voluptuous In the budding rose, 

All that Is lovely In the golden west 
When every cloud for very beauty glows, 

All that Is sweet In dreamy songs of rest. 
All that Is delicate In tracery fine, 

All that's delicious In the long-kept wine, 
All that's luxurious In fruit-crowned vine, 

Sweet Spirit, all these charms are thine. 

Look thou Into my face that's dreary grown 
Of late, thou gracious sprite in pureness clad. 

And change to calm serene my anguished moan 
That I may once again be strong and glad. 

Grant this thou glimpse on earth of Heaven's 
light. 
My soul's high altar Immaculate and white. 



100 



AN AUTUMN SUNSET 

Thou Heaven-sent apparition, molten flood 
Of pure translucent amber, wondrous clear, 
Oft quivering with strong desire of love. 
Rose-tinted clouds and deeper ones of blood 
Give thee a passionate warmth, such as in youth 
Is kindly felt with little thought or fear. 
A purple haze of richest hue, forsooth. 
Crowns royally thy grace and drifts above. 

Oh ! thou art like some grand eternal thought 
Which sages to this darksome world have brought. 
Or thou art like some statuary old, 
Of some nude youth with muscled form divine. 
Which beauty-lovers worship though 'tis cold; 
Such glory, autumn sunset, now Is thine. 



lOI 



TO PROF. WINFRED ROBERT MARTIN, 
LL.B., Ph.D. 

Thrice welcome, Sir, to this the greatest town 
That proud America can show or boast; 
So to thy happiness we would now toast, 

That men may see the virtues which you own 

And that your honors be the better known, 
For learning, rich and full as luscious fruit, 
Hast thou for every time and place to suit. 

Thrice welcome, Sir, to this our greatest town ! 

From out a college which we all admire, 

Where many a subject Is discussed and taught. 

Thou hast descended to the Nations' school- — 
A university with struggle fraught. 

One plays the student, another plays the fool, 

But all seek Truth, and that with youthful fire. 

New York City. 



I02 



IF NOT A FLIGHT 

If not a flight indeed It Is a flutter 

When my soul seeks to free itself in rhyme, 
And give to you what thoughts it scarce can utter, 

That you may smell and pluck the woodland 
thyme 
And feast on luscious, heaped-up fruits grown 
mellow — 

The clustering grapes that give the ruby wine. 
The juicy peaches red with spots of yellow, 

And lustrous cherries rich with flavor fine. 

As seeks a swallow young to skyward wing 
And sails with its companions 'long the eaves, 

But hath not yet the strength and wondrous power, 
So prays my soul each passing day and hour 

That It may reach some anguished heart that 
grieves 
With rhyming phrases sweet that almost sing. 



103 



FROM A DISTANCE 

Like one who In some vast cathedral's nave 

With humble heart counts long and well his beads, 

Yet does not dare to near the holy shrine 

Of Mother Mary, though his poor heart bleeds; 

So now, unseen, unnoticed and forsaken, 

I image to myself thy face, and crave 

Thy blessings pure, — so yearns my soul for 

thine — 
But crave in vain, my place usurped and taken. 

Yet as a symbol of the beautiful, 

And as a symbol of the good and true, 

Shall I remember thee, and often cull 

Sweet lily-thoughts bewet with love's own dew. 

Whole nights and days, dear, do I dream of thee, 

Yet dost thou ever spend one thought on me ? 



104 



TO MELODY 

Oh melt my soul into Its essence pure, 

For it would rise with thee to cloudless sphere 
As though no more this earth it could endure — 

This world so full of misery, and drear — 
Like caged eagle looking toward the sky 

And longing for unbounded liberty 
To spread its powerful wings once more and fly, 

To soar aloft in endless ecstasy. 

Where yonder blood-stained sanctuary light 
But faintly glimmers in the incense cloud, 

As in a woodland bower a sleeping sprite 
Lies partly covered by her leafy shroud. 

Thence let me wing with thee to Heaven's portal, 
Sweet melody, angel of thoughts Immortal. 



105 



IN DIFFERENT MOODS 

In different moods have I my lyrics sung: 
Sometimes when weary from fatiguing toil, 
Sometimes while laboring in the healthy soil; 

How often when my heart by grief's been wrung 
Have white tears nearly washed the paper 
clean ; 

And oft while trodding through the snow and sleet 
Have I adored some fay or goddess queen 
With colored phrases breathing perfume sweet. 

So thus in joy or grief, in mirth or woe. 

In weariness or in perplexing doubt 
Fair numbers from my young soul ever flow, 

Until a mystic air is shed about. 
Live on with me, O Poetry of Delight; 
If thou shouldst die, then comes my own life's 
night. 



io6 



YOUTH DYING 

My feverish, ardent youth Is dying fast, 
More evenly my soul-flame burns each day. 

The bursts of passion's blaze strong and intense, 

And then the swoonings of the breath and sense. 

And other transient joys are of the past. 

Much more of thought and less of action lives 
Within my soul, to guide it on Its way; 

And every former deed good counsel gives. 

Shall I regret or shall I smile, forsooth? 

Pray would you have me sing of rough, steep 
mountains 
Which I have trod with naked, bleeding feet. 
Or do you think that tears In rhyme are sweet 
Whene'er they flow in floods from love's deep 
fountains ? 
Nay, nay, I'll sing no swan-song for my youth. 



107 



AT NOON 

The loud-voiced locust sings, then rests a while, 

The Mary-Bell rings out from yon gray tower, 
And workmen through the bustling streets now 
pile; 
Some cross themselves and others damn the 

power 
That makes them sweat their flesh out by the 
hour. 
Only one lad wears on his face a smile, 

Pink-cheeked, frail, slender, but with brilliant 

eye, 
Reflecting glinting cloud-forms in the sky. 

He dreams of lips as lush as juicy fruit. 

Of jetting fountains 'neath an Eastern moon. 

Of some youth, bare from head to foot, with lute 
In hand, recalling some forgotten tune. 

Thus does he muse to wake with but this prayer, 

** Were I but born to breathe a pagan's air." 

Rutland, Vermont, 



io8 



THAT LETTER 

How galloped my heart when I received that 

letter ! 
" Ah ! happy must have been the carrler-dovc," 
I said. " For this 's from him whose love I crave, 
Whose comeliness is honored far and near, 
To whose sweet soul my soul is e'er a debtor; 
His smile has been my smile, his tear my tear, 
And if he would with my heart play the knave, 
Indeed he may, for what he loves I love." 

Thus I delayed its opening to woo pleasure, 
Finding in expectation ardent joy; 
At last I broke the seal that held the treasure. 
When nought of trouble could my heart annoy. 
But lo ! 'Twas from another friend I Dull Fate 
Was envious of my passionate love elate. 



109 



PLACIDITY 

He lets no one his heart-soul ever know, 

For he Is wrapt In smooth pretensions sleek; 
He never Is with passion all aglow, 

Nor does swift anger pale his placid cheek. 
Oh, but to make on him one real Impression I 

But lo! It Is erased ere half-complete. 
He makes of joy and sadness no confession, 

His Intellect becomes soon obsolete. 

He Is a pool of stagnant water dark, 

Which mirrors naught of trailing foliage. 

With surface never skimmed by lover's bark. 
He Is a white, unprlnted, useless page, 

Within a book of prose and pleasant rhyme, 
Which grows throughout eternity of time. 



no 



FLESH BEAUTY 

Thy warm, translucent flesh, how wondrous 
smooth ! 
Thy long, lithe limbs, well muscled toward the 
knee, 
How pliant, yet how strong, when thou dost 
move! 
Thy waist and hips are bathed in symmetry. 
Thy breasts that closely press so round and full. 
Thy silvery arms that hold me in their thrall. 
Thy milk-white neck divinely beautiful. 

Thy thoughtful face that wins the hearts of all. 

All hours are lost save when I contemplate 
The beautiful in Nature and in Art, 
And lastly when, with an inspired heart, 

I study thee, where glory lies innate. 
For other beauties lessen in their might 
When thou art present, thou new-moon of my 
night. 



Ill 



HONOR 

Let honor rule throughout this land of ours, 

And daily grow to fair and high estate 
For honor's sake, though we are watched these 
hours 

By kings and nations, by their years more great. 
Nothing for honor sweet can compensate : 

It dignifies the humblest lot of man, 
And for the worthy opens Heaven's gate. 

Needing no ornament of rank or clan. 

It rests with us, with you and me, my men, 

Whether America in glory shine 
Among the nations and in history. 

It is your duty, men, as well as mine, 
That she turn not to sinful mockery 

This virtue, honor, which we love as men. 

New York City. 



112 



TRINITY COLLEGE 

When through these halls no longer I shall stroll, 

And even quite forgotten Is my name, 
(For many a mortal fails to gain his goal, 

Yes, few are crowned with long - endurmg 
fame). 
When through these halls no longer I shall stroll, 

When gone forever are my college hours, 
When from its nest has winged away my soul, 

And other youths dwell happy in the Towers. 

Still may the perfume of these days then fled, 
These days of goodly fellowship and cheer. 

Sweeter and sweeter grow as rose-leaves red, 
Until our beauteous College far and near 

By men be styled the flower of the earth. 

And all men honored who have given her worth. 

Northam Towers, Trinity College, 
Hartford, Conn. 



113 



TO 

Thou hast the power to frame a melody 
Strongly impassioned or bedewed with woe, 
A spirit wrestling with itself for foe, 

A sad farewell beneath a willow tree, 

A peaceful or a raging storm-swept sea; 
All this is in thy reach, and more, yes more, 
For thou canst fetter me or let me soar 

With lips apart as to be fed by thee. 

Thou knowest me better than words can tell. 
But since man's thoughts by words are signified, 
Take thou this sonnet, friend, and may it please 
Thy heart and bring thee health and happy ease 
When parched and thirsty is thy own life's well. 
And memories once fresh by care are dried. 



114 



ROSE LEAVES 
I. 

Give me the rose leaves of the rose you plucked, 
Though wilted, faded, and by strong hands 
bruised; 

The good of all the hours of this day 

By us in carelessness has been dry-sucked, 

As is a clover when by bee abused, 

That gets all that it can, then wings away; 

And yet — and yet perhaps in wintry time, 
He dreams of clovers and of sunny clime. 

So in some shrine-like book that I love best — 
Some book of verse where songs of youth are 
sung — 

Will I make safe the rose leaves of your rose, 

Kissing the rhyme there may they find full rest; 

And when the snow about my window blows 
A sad heart o'er the rose leaves will be hung. 



IK 



II. 

The golden meshes of thy loose-bound hair, 
Thy full, voluptuous lips that seem to burn. 

Thine eyes so clear, thy neck so round and fair; 

May not thy beauty fade though thou shouldst 
learn 

That many a thorn about each rosebud grows; 
That those you deemed true friends prove too 
unkind ; 

That with each joy there come a thousand woes; 
To all such worrying troubles be thou blind. 

High pedestaled upon a marble shrine, 

Edged 'round with carbuncles and sapphires 
bright, 

Have I beheld the Virgin's halo shine, 
Until the chancel seemed suffused with light. 

So may thy soul its pure, good radiance shed, 

And by thy beauty may the world be led. 



ii6 



III. 

Why Is It that with thee I am at ease, 
And would my very nakedness lay bare, 
And with thee my most chambered secrets share, 

Nor feel compelled to try each hour to please 

Thee with new fancies? As the evening breeze 
Comes freighted with delicious coolness rare 
After the parching heat and sunny glare, 

Thou com'st to couch thy head upon my knees. 

And always with a sympathetic look, 

And generous thoughts In pearly phrases 
thrown. 
And sometimes with a flower, or a book 

In which some great truth has been newly 
lighted; 
Or happily I make for thee a throne 

Where I may kneel before thee and be knighted. 



117 



IV. 

There is an emptiness within my heart 
Such as a poet feels In vernal May, 
When snowy apple-blossoms, tipped with pink. 
From clustering bowers to the dank ground sink, 
And he is left alone to think and think, 

And weeps to see the fairy flowers depart, 
Wishing that all the year were one long May, 
That all its glories could but last alway. 

No other face can take the place of thine. 
Nor can another voice with sparkling joy 

Make glad this heart of mine and give me health. 
To try to drown this 111 with bubbling wine. 

Or other pleasures that the senses cloy, 

Would be as vain as seeking fabled wealth. 



ii8 



wilt thou forget me as the hours pass by, 

Wilt thou, wilt thou forget me, tell me, say. 
Wilt thou forget me as the months pass by. 

And make me but thine heart's lone castaway? 
Our natures are so frail I almost cry 

To think that friendships pass so soon away, 
As crimson roses mingle with the clay, 

And none lament them even with a sigh. 

'Tis better thou forget me than regret 
That we by fate are driven far apart : 

But still I wish thou wouldst not, couldst not, let 
Me from the mirror of thy heart depart; 

For I would live there quiet, calm and free. 
To love and suffer and to die with thee. 

Rutland, Vermont. 



119 



LEAL LOVE 

How amorous Is my heart to-night, O Friend, 

My fancy rises to Its airiest height; 
So come and bring your sweetest words to mend 

My sighs, and let us quaff off swift delight. 
Deep glow my eyes of blue as two sapphires, 

When strong emotion into passion turns. 
When fine imagination feeds desires. 

And when, as now, my love for thy love yearns. 

My heart has weary grown of beauty cold. 

And seeks both life and warmth In something 
real; 

I would thy healthy form to mine now fold. 
Knowing thou art and ever will be leal. 

Since I must love, yet love, I would be sure. 
Be thou near by as long as life endure. 



1 20 



MUTTERING DISCONTENT 

Give me a man whose heart is large, world-wide, 

Who taught of God would hold humanity, 
Not in a system that is cut and dried 

To suit some worn-out, old Theology: 
Who can behold the men that make the world 

As beings varied, gifted with good powers, 
At whom no thunderbolts by God are hurled. 

But kindly nourished as are varied flowers. 

E'en now a mutt'ring discontent is heard, 
The helplessness of man repenting of. 

That we are kept in prison by man's word 

Instead of God's, whose boundless name Is 
Love. 

May all this grow until at last is seen 

An tarth newborn beneath a heaven serene. 



121 



TRIOLETS 



THE OLD SCHOOL 

This is the place I hung my hat, 

This is the place I went to school. 
Many a year has passed since that; 

This is the place I hung my hat, 
There was the clock, and there a mat. 

I learnt to read and write and rule. 
This is the place I hung my hat. 

This is the place I went to school. 



POOR LITTLE THING 

Poor little thing. 

You need my care I 
Naught can I bring. 
Poor little thing, 
But I can cling 

To you and share 
Your woe. Poor thing, 

You need my care. 



125 



NOT NOW, BUT SOON 

Not now, but soon — 

I heard her say — 
Perhaps this moon, 
Not now, but soon. 
If all's in tune. 

Fly, fly away. 
Not now, but soon — 

I heard her say. 



MY DANDY DUDE 

He^s straight and slim. 
My dandy dude. 

So very trim; 

He's straight and slim 

To suit my whim, 
My own heart's food ! 

He's straight and slim. 
My dandy dude. 



126 



THE MAN WHO KNOWS 

To THE man who knows, 
Let us drink now, boys, 

From his head to his toes. 

To the man who knows ! 

Though he may have woes. 
He has many more joys. 

To the man who knows 
Let us drink now, boys ! 



THAT MAIDEN SO FAIR 

Oh^ who would deceive her. 
That maiden, so fair? 
I'm sure none would grieve her. 
Oh, who would deceive her? 
Yet one could relieve her, 

Of kisses and care. 
Though he'd not deceive her. 

That maiden, so fair. 



127 



LILACS BLUE 

Now's the time for lilacs blue, 

Pink, and white, that's certain. 
Now's the time for me and you, 

Now's the time for lilacs blue. 
Now when life is fresh and new, 

Cupid, raise the curtain. 
Now's the time for lilacs blue. 

Pink and white, that's certain. 



A CIGARETTE 

A cigarette 

For lips half-parted, 
With fresh health wet: 

A cigarette 
Is fine, you bet. 

Ha, ha, we've started ! 
A cigarette 

For lips half-parted. 



128 



A SMILE, A FROWN 

Say, what's a smile, say, what's a frown? 

Each melts into the other. 
When coy love comes half-glancing down; 
Say, what's a smile, say, what's a frown? 
I hail each from her eyes of brown ; 

Of both I am the lover. 
Say, what's a smile, say, what's a frown? 
Each melts Into the other I 



129 



RELIGIOUS POEMS 



THE CHRISTIAN 

I AM no king of lands, nor of seas lord, 
Nor Is my coming heralded by horn, 
For In no prince's tower was I born. 
No courtier hastes to catch my passing word, 
Or see if rightly he my utterance heard. 
No equipage doth carry me In state 
To keep me from the rabble separate. 
That I be In my passage undeterred. 

But I am ruler of a greater land: 

I rule my body and my mind and heart; 

I curb strong passions and I quell desire, 

Keeping my body under and my Ire. 

When doubts and fears like ghosts about me stand 

I calmly thus address them, "Peace! Depart! " 



^33 



SPARE THOU THY PEOPLE 

O Thou, enthroned amid the jasper stones, 
Where Cherubs veil their faces in Thy sight, 
And Seraphs stand hke wardens blazing bright, 
Hear Thou our suppHcations and our moans — 
Humanity's heartfelt and heartsick groans — 
Which come before Thee in our helpless plight. 
Spare Thou Thy people, Lord, and grant us light 
Or we shall lie amidst the dust and stones. 

Here at Thy earthly altars stand by day 
Thy priests with hands uplifted in Thy name. 
Pleading the merits of Thy sacrifice. 
Together with their praise and holy lives; 
O Saviour, look not from Thy flock away. 
But on our altars let Thy soul-blood flame. 



134 



A PRAYER 

Let me forget myself, O Christ, in Thee, 

And seek no longer after earthly fame; 
Let me forget myself, O Christ, in Thee, 

For Thou alone forever art the same. 
Since friendships fade, their joys last but an hour, 

And hearts grow cold that ne^er you would mis- 
trust. 
Sad-eyed I weep o'er many a bright-hued flower, 

That it must meet and mingle with the dust. 

There is no calm nor peace except with Thee, 
And nought is gained by all our eager hurry 

After delusive pleasures, which we find 

But empty forms that breed a world of worry. 

So give us peace, and calm each troubled mind, 
Lest we forget our immortality. 



135 



NOW AND THEN 

Now, pleasures one by one are snatched away, 
And we are left more stripped and bare of joy; 

Yet if we listen we can hear Christ say, 
" Fear only him who can the soul destroy." 

So let us live in patience and in hope. 
For Jesus cares for all the souls of men : 

Though now in doubts and anguish we may grope, 
Before His throne we all shall sing " Amen." 

Wallingfordf Conn, 



THINGS OF SENSE AND TIME 

In vain the things of sense we fear, 
For things of sense and time are dear; 
So, God, raise things of sense to Thee, 
And godlike make humanity. 

And every thing of beauty rare. 
That glitters with its lustre fair; 
Let us but dare to love it when 
Thou art portrayed in it to men. 



136 



THY SHIELD 

There is One whose eye Is beholding, 
When thy face Is covered with tears, 

And whose lips are never scolding. 
When thy life is shaken with fears. 

And His life has a goodly prestige, 
And His face a kindly smile ; 

In His heart not the slightest vestige 
Of anything that Is vile. 

Oh, I am thy shield and thy lover, 
Oh, I am thy great reward. 

Thy husband, thy friend, thy brother, 
I am thy Christ, thy Lord! 



137 



THE CHURCH 

O Church, oft bruised yet ever strong, 

The Body of Our Head, 
Lift up Thy voice and let Thy song 

Tell how by Thee are fed 
The nations, growing great with power. 
Which springs afresh from Thee each hour. 

O Holy Church, not born of men, 

But founded by Our Head, 
Fear not; for one shall disperse ten; 

Continue yet where Thou hast led. 
Authority is not a Czar, 
But guides men like a gladd'ning star. 

Poquetaniick, Conn. 

WHEN THE LOVES OF EARTH LIE 

DEAD 
When our hearts are almost breaking, 

And the tears come thick and fast; 
When we wish that Death would own us 

And that each breath were the last. 

Then in mercy, Saviour, shield us, 
And Thy warmth about us spread, 

For Thou only canst bring comfort 
When the loves of earth lie dead. 



138 



SACRAMENTAL FORGIVENESS 

God, all-merciful, forgive, 

For our hearts are stained with sin: 
Long has been the battle fierce 

From without us and within. 

In Thy Holy Sacraments 

Let us feel our pardon sealed; 

In Thy blessed Presence, Lord, 

Our deep heart-wounds will be healed. 

Waterhury, Conn, 



LIFE'S HARMONY 

Life's harmony I've found, 
Christ, at Thy blessed shrine; 

And holiness profound, 

Has filled this heart of mine. 

No longer shall I doubt 

And count this life as nought, 

I cannot live without 

Thee, Christ, in deed or thought. 



139 



THE MOTHER-SPIRIT 

Mary seeks her twelve-year-old 
In the street and by the way, 

A.nd she found him, we are told, 
Not until the third sad day. 

What's a mother's love, ask ye? 
Look, I answer, at Mary. 

Mary weeps beside the cross 
As she never wept before. 

Grieved her heart Is by her loss. 
For her Son can speak no more. 

What's a mother's love, ask ye? 
Look, I answer, at Mary. 



A HYMN OF THE HEART 

O God, dissolve my doubts In love 
And cleanse my heart from fear; 

So shall my soul both know and prove 
That Thou art ever near. 

I'll know that my Redeemer llveth, 
E'en now as beyond death, 

I'll know that my Creator giveth 
The joys that this life hath. 



140 

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